


i know that we were made to break

by ringerxo



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Original Character(s), Pandaing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tattoo Artist Clary Fray, Tattoo Artist Magnus Bane, Tattoos, Veteran Alec Lightwood, Veteran Jace Herondale, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringerxo/pseuds/ringerxo
Summary: Magnus is a tattoo artist. Alec is a veteran soldier.He etches his past onto his skin for him, and hopes to be part of his future.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frostingsuga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostingsuga/gifts), [Lecrit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lecrit/gifts).



> This was written over the course of a weekend, and it was just based on me going "hmmmmmm Alec would be hot with tattoos!" And then "hmmmm Magnus is an artist!" And then this happened.
> 
> The ideas for Alec's tattoo come from a combination of [this](https://www.askideas.com/media/51/Black-Outline-Tribal-Wings-Tattoo-On-Full-Back.jpg) and [this](http://www.tattoochief.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/TC-56124677c4565-Bow-and-arrow-back-tattoo-600x600.jpg). Magnus's sleeves are Puck's last soliloquy from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and his chest tattoo is a lineart version, with minimal shading, of [this](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/NhUDaqCMP7Y/maxresdefault.jpg).
> 
> *sigh* So pretty.
> 
> Gwen is borrowed from [my other fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6610213). She's a darling there as well, go have a look!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Title is from Zedd and Hayley Williams's [Stay the Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJhZnfke9f0).

"If you don't make a move on him tonight, Magnus, I swear I will."

"Mack won't be very happy about that," Magnus retorted, swiping the surface with a disinfecting wipe. The counter was veined red marble, wide, and usually was covered by various pigments, sheafs of paper with half-finished designs, and colored pencils. Spanning the back of the room, it was his junk shelf, and Clary was constantly urging him to clean it off, but he ignored her. Besides, after the first time she tried cleaning up his studio, she learned the hard way to never enter his lair again without permission.

"They'd understand," Gwen said, waving her hand dismissively. She narrowed her eyes at the orderly piles Magnus was making and said, voice laced with suspicion, "Are those Clary's sketchbooks?"

"Don't you dare tell her," he said without turning back to her. "I owe her one from last week. She stole a valuable customer."

"He wanted a tribal sleeve and you hate doing those," Gwen said. "Plus, he only came back for her anyways."

Magnus sniffed. "You don't know that," he said primly. Gwen snorted, and Magnus scowled. Men came back for Clary more often than not. Clary was a virtuoso with a pen on paper, needle on skin, and gentle but firm rebuffs on injured and inflated male egos.

"Is this his last session?" Gwen asked, perching on Magnus's stool. He turned around to face her, unconsciously licking his snakebites, and moved over to the work table. Here, on a stainless steel surface, were the tools of his trade: a tattoo needle, sleek and comforting, its bronze coils gleaming; small pots of pigment, neatly labeled and arranged; bottles of rubbing alcohol, purified water, empty glass bowls and microfiber cloths for cleaning; cotton swabs and medical tape; a small biohazard pail.

"Indeed," Magnus said quietly, sweeping his tray with a sharp eye. He moved the needle to the left and Gwen raised an eyebrow, but chose not to comment.

"I have truly outdone myself with this one, Gwen," Magnus said, his arms crossed over his chest, a small grin on his face. "I'm surprised Clary didn't try to edge in on the design."

"You usually ask her to," Gwen commented comfortably.

"And yet, I don't know anything about it, besides the fact that he has some sort of military past. We've spoken about anything and everything but the reason for the art."

"Every time he's been here in the past six months," Gwen said, squinting at Magnus, "you've been the one to lock up at the end of the day because your sessions end but the conversations don't. I'm actually really surprised you haven't gotten busy yet."

"Oh," Magnus sighed, "I've tried. But he very elegantly changes the subject every time I got even remotely saucy."

And saucy he got, that first session; the needle hummed against Alec's skin, pricks of blood welling in its wake as Magnus drew it precisely across his shoulder blades, but blood was all he got. The silence was discomfiting, and disappointing; after the prep meetings where they had hammered out a design, Magnus was looking forward to talking to the hulking, serious man.

So at the end of three very uncomfortable hours, Magnus flicked his needle off and apologized quietly, then moved smoothly into the self-care explanations and warnings of what to stay away from. As he smoothed liquid bandage over the reddened lines, they were both silent. And then, when he was done, Alec turned around and thanked him, and his eyes were warm.

Since then, every three weeks, Alec would amble into the studio in the late afternoon, pull off his shirt, climb onto the table, and lie down, his back presented to Magnus like the canvas it was. And every three weeks, Magnus would clear his schedule, tidy up his studio, and think ruefully that he didn't have to remind Ragnor to turn on the hot water heater in the apartment that night because Magnus's shower that night was going to be anything but hot.

"Dunno," Gwen shrugged, but her eyes sparkled, "I feel like you shouldn't give up so quickly."

\---

"If you don't make a move on him tonight, Alec, I swear I will."

Alec snorted and closed his journal, the one he had been writing in until Jace had unceremoniously barged into his room and announced his intentions about Magnus.

"Here's how I know you won't," Alec said, turning around in his desk chair to face Jace, who was elegantly sprawled over Alec's neatly made bed. "One," he raised a slender finger, "you drunkenly kissed me in celebration of the repeal of DADT when we were in basic--"

"Ugh, don't remind me," Jace groaned, and Alec continued.

"--and then proceeded to ignore me for a week before Garroway locked us in the supply shed and forced you to talk to me. You apologized for a full half hour for attacking me and not being into me and went on about how you were only 'celebrating equality, Lightwood, it's all about equality!', a tirade that was only stopped when I punched you in the solar plexus."

"And for keeping your fist above my belt, I applaud you."

Alec leveled him a dark glare, only alleviated by the slight twitch at the corners of his expansive mouth and the rise of a second finger. "Two, I know you've been to the shop without me, and I know you went back a second time after that because of Clary."

"You guys chat like that, and you haven't boned yet?" Jace exclaimed. Alec's expression didn't change, but he grabbed a foam ball from behind him and threw it at Jace's face, hitting his forehead and wrenching a scowl from his roommate.

"I talk to Gwen, mostly," Alec said, "but Magnus was the one who confirmed that it was you. He recognized you from--"

"--the video," they said in unison.

Alec and Jace had reunited towards the end of Alec's stint at Walter Reed. They had come back at the same time, on the same flight; Alec, however, had a mass of bright red, shiny flesh where his thigh used to be, and by the time the doctors had patched him up and set him on a regular schedule of physical therapy, Jace had set them up with a tiny apartment in Alphabet City and job prospects at the local community center.

Alec eased into his job, working the desk before he moved to weights and archery. Jace, who slipped into the role of krav maga instructor/mentor pretty easily, had a running rivalry with the chess and debate clubs director, a nerdy kid from Brooklyn by the name of Simon Lewis.

The aforementioned video was of Jace, clinging to a climbing pole at the end of the gym, demanding that Simon return the stool to the base of the pole so he could climb down. Simon, however, set up his phone, and proceeded to stage an Animal Planet-esque skit for the benefit of several giggling kids in the room, until Jace jumped off the pole and walked away.

Simon posted the video and it quickly went viral. Jace scowled at him for a couple of days, until Alec took Simon aside and explained how Jace hated feeling helpless. Simon didn't take the video down, but a link to donate to Justice For Vets appeared in the video description and as a box hovering over the screen. Later, when they became better friends, Simon mentioned over lunch that he had monetized the video and donated all the proceeds to JFV as well.

Alec had newfound respect for the wiry young man, but he never told him. It would ruin his image.

"You're just happy you get to keep his hands to yourself," Jace taunted, rolling off Alec's bed and standing up. "You can't bear the thought of him working on me."

"Just make sure not to start your sessions tonight," Alec deadpanned. "I don't want Magnus's hand to jump because of your screams from Clary's studio."

\---

There was a list of questions tattoo artists were obligated to ask their customers before starting a session of any length. Gwen usually extended it. People who came in for a big project got asked the questions, same as everyone else, until they developed a rapport with their artist.

Magnus didn't need to ask Alec the questions anymore. In fact, he didn't have to ask him the questions after the first session. He trusted him. Alec worked with kids; he was responsible and aware. He wouldn't do anything to endanger his or Magnus's health.

Although, as Alec stood in the doorway of Magnus's studio, the late afternoon rays slanting in through the glass storefront and framing Alec like a halo, Magnus wasn't so sure that he was capable of breathing evenly at that moment.

"So," Alec said, breaking the silence but holding Magnus's gaze, "last time."

Magnus cleared his throat, unable to tear his eyes away from Alec's. "Yeah," he echoed, "last time."

Alec took a step inside and with one fluid motion, pulled off his shirt, suddenly looking everywhere but at Magnus, a faint blush covering his cheeks. He sat on the black table, toes a whisper away from touching the floor, and squinted up at Magnus.

"The arrowhead," Magnus explained, moving to stand behind Alec, "will go right here," and he tapped right under the nape of Alec's neck with his pen. Putting it down on the small metal table, he picked up a couple of latex gloves and pulled them on.

Sweeping across Alec's shoulder blades and down his back were the stark outlines of wings, with no ornament or hyper-realistic detailing. It would be nearly too standard if not for the bow and arrow weaved into the wings, with the curve of the bow outlining the curved tops of the wings, acting as a sort of frame for them.

The arrow nocked into the bow, as of that moment, ended with a smooth expanse of skin that was the last part of the tattoo. They had spread the sessions over more time than was habitual, since Alec had to be able to continue working while recovering each time.

Simple exchanges over messages about taking care of the tattoo grew into longer discussions, about Alec's family and Magnus's friends, about politics and art, about music. Alec never spoke about his time in the military, and Magnus never spoke about his childhood, and yet they found enough things to talk about.

"So how's Izzy doing?" Magnus asked lightly, swabbing the intended tattoo area with rubbing alcohol. As he wiped the area free of residual ointment and traced the design into place, Alec told him about his younger sister's adventures in Columbia, coasting through her graduate studies in biomechanics engineering and nursing a fierce Broadway habit.

Magnus had once joined her for a particularly fortuitous weekend of standing in cancellation lines; in addition to seeing a truly astonishing amount of musicals, they had ended up at a house party on Saturday night where Izzy became best friends with the entire cast of the Spring Awakening revival and Magnus made out with Jonathan Groff.

"She told me that I should join you guys for the next Broadway weekend," Alec said, a smile in his voice. "I told her you might not want to repeat the experience and she laughed in my face."

Magnus laughed, then hummed as he finished the sketch on Alec's skin and capped his pen. "It was very enlightening," he murmured, picking up the needle and touching it to Alec's skin. "Some things proved to be true."

He flicked the needle on and carefully followed his own design, slanting the needle diagonally for thicker lines. Every few seconds, he dabbed at the trail left behind by the needle. He was focused on his work; the only things that filtered through the fog of his work were the hum of the needle and the soft strains of Belle and Sebastian from his laptop.

He shifted in position a few times to see how the tattoo was coming out. It was going great and, he realized, quick. Compared to the rest of the design, this part was miniscule.

"Is everything okay? Are you done?"

Magnus shook his head and looked at Alec, who hadn't turned his head but was gripping the side of the table, knuckles white.

"Not done yet," he said softly. "I only have a line and a half left. And then... It's done."

"Done," Alec echoed.

Magnus sighed. "Yeah." He felt a sense of loss creep over him. "Done."

"Well," Alec said, and then hesitated, "we can... Do... After this, do you wanna hang out?"

\---

They got tacos and burritos from the nearest food truck and traipsed their way to Washington Arch Garden. Alec moved his head gingerly; the pain from the tattoo radiated up his neck a bit and turning his head too quickly made the area twinge.

"How did you deal with the itching?" Alec asked, face scrunching up as he fiddled with the foil around his burrito.

Magnus smoothed a hand over his sleeves, lines of flowing script. "Aloe," he said, and then added with a lopsided grin, "and for the one on my torso, weed."

"I wish," Alec grumbled. "But I can't. Especially not today." He looked at his food and said carefully, "I have a prescription for medical, but I haven't filled it in two years." He shrugged. "I work with kids. I'd rather not mess around with it."

"That," Magnus said thickly, mouth full of cheese and beans, "is so noble. Also, adorable. And possibly kind of hot."

Alec snorted and looked down, his hand automatically moving to his neck to rub it but remembering at the last minute that maybe that wasn't such a good idea, so he settled for turning his head towards Magnus and half-grinning, half-grimacing. Magnus continued chewing, content and also hopeful.

"Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you?" Alec said, huffing out a short laugh between 'bit' and 'thick'. Magnus swallowed and wiggled his eyebrows, making Alec laugh again, and balled up the foil from his burrito, tossing it into the trash.

"Can you blame me?" Magnus said, eyes widening. "Have you seen yourself?"

Alec, who was unwrapping his burrito, snorted and took a bite. "Gimme a break," he said, chewing.

"I have been," Magnus said earnestly, turning towards Alec and catching his gaze. "For six months. And after I got to know you beyond your unfairly sculpted body, I kept my distance because I didn't want to make things uncomfortable. But getting to know you didn't make it any easier to stay away."

Alec swallowed his bite and took another one, still unable to tear his eyes away from Magnus's.

"You're kind," Magnus said. "You're careful, and professional, and sarcastic, and fierce. And you're kind. And," and here he took a deep breath as Alec swallowed and put his burrito down, "I know that something happened to you during your service, and I know it scarred you. And the fact that you're able to carry on is mind-boggling."

"Magnus," Alec said quietly, but Magnus, afraid that Alec was going to turn him down, plowed on.

"And-- well, I think I'm falling for you."

They stared at each other. Magnus was breathing hard, and Alec's gaze was warm, almost fond.

"Do you want to come over to mine for a cup of tea?" Alec asked, nearly whispered, and Magnus nodded yes.

\---

"What happened to-- ah!-- the tea?"

"Later," Alec growled, and attacked Magnus's neck.

They had made a beeline for the subway, but Magnus, driven by a wild crazy hopeful burst of energy, pulled Alec towards him by his shirt, right as they were passing under the Arch, and kissed him.

It was short, it was chaste, and it was sweet, sending Magnus's heart into overdrive. Alec looked down at him, fondness taking on a crackling edge of smoldering promise, and then he licked his lips and Magnus nearly kissed him again but Alec pulled him along to the subway.

The subway ride was short and torturous; Magnus, standing close to Alec, had dithered with his hands, wondering what to do with them, until Alec grabbed his hand and effectively stopped Magnus from moving - or thinking, really - until they got off the train and made their way back to the sultry New York night.

The few minutes' walk from the subway to Alec's place were shortened because Alec was nearly running, and Magnus really was running to keep up with him, and also to not let go of Alec's hand grasped tightly in his. He rushed-stumbled up the stairs, and then they were pulling the door open and falling into the apartment. 

The door shut behind them with a stark sound, but Magnus didn't have much time to let his thoughts run wild because Alec was in front of him, crowding him against the door, and asking, his voice low, "Can I--"

"Yes," Magnus breathed, and Alec kissed him. The feeling of his lips, pliant and warm on his own, made Magnus sigh, and then whimper when Alec licked his snakebites, toying with them for a moment, and then his tongue was in Magnus's mouth and his hands were cupping Magnus's face gently, gently, gently, and Magnus felt himself falling.

They ended up in Alec's room, their shirts lost somewhere between Alec's bedroom door and his bed. Alec was fascinated with Magnus's piercings, laving them with tongue and lips, groaning when Magnus whimpered at the ministrations, clutching his arms harder.

And then Magnus was on Alec's bed, and he was keening. Alec had divested them both of their pants with ruthless efficiency and was palming Magnus through his boxers, and Magnus slipped his hands past Alec's waistband and Alec groaned, dropping his head onto Magnus's shoulder as he fumbled his way into Magnus's boxers as well.

Somehow, Alec found Magnus's lips again. He caught Magnus's bottom lip between his teeth and worried at it with his teeth and tongue, flooding the room with Magnus's breathy moans and his own cut-off whimpers as Magnus wrapped his hand around Alec and slid it up and down his cock, twisting his wrist at just the right time, until--

"Alec, I'm-- oh, fuck, A-- Alec--"

"I'm here," Alec murmured into Magnus's ear, and Magnus tipped over the edge with a wordless cry. Alec followed him, burying his face in Magnus's shoulder.

\---

"Alec, how did yesterday-- SWEET JESUS."

"Not quite, but we did call on his father a few times last night," Magnus said with a smug grin, pulling the covers up over Alec and himself.

Jace was standing in the doorway, a hand covering his face. "Did you finish the tattoo?" he asked.

"I did," Magnus said.

"And is Alec happy?"

"Yes," Alec murmured. "On all counts. Now fuck off."

Jace grinned, and looked at Magnus. "Take care of him."

Magnus's fingers trailed over Alec's shoulder. "I will."

FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> [Justice for Vets](http://justiceforvets.org/) is a real and valuable organization that helps estsblish and run veteran appeal courts around the US. Take a look at their awesome, awesome promo clip. :)


End file.
